Picture Frame
by xXNattatouilleXx
Summary: [NickGreg] There are only broken remains of the relationship.[Complete][First slash piece!]


_**Title:**_ Picture Frame

**_Rating:_** K+

**_Warnings:_** SLASH- Nick/Greg- Don't like don't read

_**This is my first ever slash piece... So I would love as much feedback as possible!!!**_

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I find myself hidden in this corner, just staring at the doorway, wishing that any moment you'll walk back through it, and everything will be okay again. I'm not sure how long I've been slumped here, because it seems all too long, because my back is cramping up- and my muscles are beginning to ache. But I don't want to leave this spot, because if I do, I'll realise that it has happened, and I'd rather still feel like this was all a dream.

My eyes are sore and scratchy. I think I've cried all I can, because no matter how upsetting this is, no more will flow. I can feel the damp, salty taste of tears on my cheeks- I've cried a tsunami worth of them. Why I can't cry now? I don't know, I suppose it's because I've just tried to seal myself in. I know that they will be blood-shot beyond belief; I don't even think my normal deep cappuccino irises will exist, replaced with sullen angry red from the amount of water I have lost from them.

I can still hear your words ringing in my ears, and no matter what I do they just won't go away. I don't want to believe that you actually let them tumble from your lips- the ones I thought I knew. But obviously I didn't know, because I didn't realise how deep you could cut with the vicious tongue you possess- although I hadn't found it until now. I cover my ears, but it won't stop me from hearing them, it won't stop me from hearing _'I'm sorry Greg, we just can't work.' _

I screamed didn't I? I screamed at you for saying that. I couldn't help myself, and I certainly couldn't stop it from happening. That is why now, I can't speak because my throat is like sandpaper- and it's too painful to speak above a whisper. Maybe that is why I have opted for whispering consolations to myself- because I can't muster much more. I'm glad I can't talk, because I'd do something stupid; I know where the phone is and I know your number… I would never leave you alone until you told me if you meant all the things you said, and why you didn't tell me sooner.

I can feel the phone beside me, I could easily do it. But I have to resist, so I clamp down on my lip. I'm biting hard, trying to stop any words come tumbling out- and I can feel the copper tang infecting my mouth. I don't stop biting though; it feels good to be drawing crimson from myself- covering the emotional pain with the physical pain. Not only this, but I can feel the bitterness of what I had said- slowly sliding away to the taste of the blood.

I wonder if you will believe me in a few years when I tell you things about the moment I'm stuck in. Well, will you? Will you believe if I said to you that I didn't mean to scream insults at you? Will you believe me if I said that I didn't mean to say that I had wished you had never escaped from that box? Honestly, I didn't mean to say it- I was just angry and upset. Things just tend to come rushing out of my mouth before I have time to think; but you should know that.

I look away from the door because it's not particularly interesting to look at when I stop to consider it. I've hated it since I bought the apartment, but at least now I have an excuse to get rid of it- the crack up the panel you left when you slammed the door on your way out. I suppose that was your way of saying that there was nothing more to say, this was how it was going to end- staring at the door isn't going to help matters is it?

So instead I let my eyes fall onto the picture on the floor. Once it would have taken pride of place on the mantle; but it doesn't seem to belong there anymore. I don't know what force gripped me to do what I did, but I did it. No use on trying to figure out a way to turn back time and stop myself. It was the first object my hand came into contact with when you first said you were leaving- and so I threw it. I'm glad that I have never been particularly good at sports because otherwise my aim would have been better. If that had been better- then it wouldn't have hit the wall beside you and shattered to pieces- it would have hit you, and I'd be feeling terrible.

But that picture now just sits there, the frame splintered helplessly- and the glass is just scattered around in shards. That picture is just like our relationship- it had been sheltered and protected… But when it is exposed it breaks. I'm actually glad I threw that photo; I don't think I could handle seeing it the smiling faces, that were so blissfully unaware of how it would end.

I just didn't know it was coming until now, and I sit here- feeling drained both emotionally and physically- and I can do nothing but try and fill the void you have left. I don't think my life will ever be complete without you Nicky.


End file.
